Controll is in the mind
by Elisabell-angel enraged
Summary: Near looks back on how he was and how he is. The unpredictability of Mello and the confusion of ranking. MelloxNear oneshot .... Bad description...


Title: Controll is in the mind

Fandom: Death Note

Pairing: MelloxNear

Rating: T

Warnings: THIS IS NOT SMUT!! Getting that out of the way, it is not exactly fluff either. It's kind of angsty, in its own way... No spoilers, unless you don't know who Mello and Near are, but if you didn't know that... Why read this fic?

POV: first person, from Near's point of view... So, sorry if it sucks...

A/N: this is kinda disjointed and for that I am sorry... This is the first serious MelloxNear fic I've put on here, so I hope you like it... Even a little... It's refreshing to write something other than fluff ...

Everything was different when the sun goes down. Everything changed when the orphans are all in their beds.

Mello is a liar, and I don't think there is anything he is openly truthfull about. I doubt there is anything that is safe to believe. I do not yet know everything that he lies about, and that much is disconcerting.

Due to this behavior, Mello is also unpredictable. He tends to act based on emotion, and that in itself is hard to predict. I've learned not to be surprised by his actions anymore. Even unpredictabiliaty turns into tedium eventually.

The only time it's different was at night. At night, Mello tends to follow a pattern. This might even be the way he truly is. Night was the only time Mello can talk to me without screaming. Night was the only time he is calm. Night was the only time he sees himself as number one.

We've grown into the routine, as quickly as though we'd been doing it all of our lives. We both had nothing to lose and so much to gain.

I was getting what I wanted, and Mello was getting what he wanted.

Though Mello was pickier than I was.

Mello would only touch me if he knew that he was in complete controll.

He liked handcuffs, that much I remember. He wouldn't do anything until I was secured. Whenever he'd walk into the playroom at night, he told me without words what he wanted. I had no choice, and I never did. Even if I had a choice, I probably still would've gone. He never said a word. I knew more than anyone that Mello feared not having controll. He needed the handcuffs for security. He wanted to feel as though he had complete controll over me.

What Mello doesn't understand is that I have as much controll as he does. I can change his emotions and thoughts in a fraction of a second without having to say a word. I know, for I have.

Mello only hurts me to show that he can.

Often he'll choke me. I never know when he's going to do it, or why.. He'll just do it. He does it without saying a word. He watches me with the blankest eyes I've ever seen from him. I know what he wants me to do. He wants me to act the way I did when he first attempted this.

When he first did this to me, I'd cried. It was a simple reaction that my body decided to do, and I couldn't fight it back.

I know he wants to see that again, but I don't let him. I resist by not doing anything. I know I've dissapointed him.

He chokes me until I'm at the edge of madness. The fine line between life and death, before he releases me. I take great intakes of air, trying to get as much in as I can. Whenever Mello sees me do this, he cuts me off with a kiss. He's trying to stop me from getting more air. He gets more satisfaction from knowing that he is giving me the air I need.

I can tell that he hates it. He regrets doing it the second he stops. Though I have no idea whether it hurts him more than it hurts me.

Mello only loves me when I'm asleep.

He always expected me to sleep there for the night, and I always agree to it. It's just an unspoken agreement. I am too tired to get up, and he does not want to get up.

It's obvious he's tired. He uses a lot more energy in a day than I do, no one can deny that fact. Even so, he refuses to go to sleep before I do. At first, I just went along with this, but after a while I got curious as to why Mello wanted me to do this. So I pretended to sleep, just to see him fall asleep.

He waits for a minute or so until he is convinced that I must be asleep. He then talks to me, even when he knows that I cannot hear him. He whispers loving words as though they are taboo. It is obvious that he is afraid to say them, but feels he needs to.

I know that he will never tell me, and I will never make him do so. I have to accept that fact, so I will.

I make it part of the routine, pretending to sleep just so I can hear Mello speak.

Once he is finished talking, he clings. He clings as if he thinks I will leave, as if he is afraid of me leaving. His nails dig into my skin, and I know that by the time the sun comes up there will be semi-permanent cuts there.

As soon as Mello is settled, he falls asleep.

Then I whisper back a small, "me too."

No other words need to be said, for we are both terribly un-poetic. Nor would I want to say anything else.


End file.
